


Drunk On Love

by thelastolympian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25617574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelastolympian/pseuds/thelastolympian
Summary: In the middle of a muggle bar in downtown London, Harry Potter recalls the events of his past week and makes a decision that will forever change his relationship with his best friend Hermione Granger. Written for the HMS Harmony Discord Group - Writing Fest for Harry’s 40th Birthday.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 22
Kudos: 108
Collections: HMS Harmony Discord Writing Fest - Harry's 40th Birthday, Happy Birthday Mister Potter





	Drunk On Love

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This piece was written for the HMS Harmony Discord - Writing Fest. It was inspired by some songs of the British band Arctic Monkeys, such as “R U Mine?”, “Why’d You Only Call Me When You’re High?” and “Do I Wanna Know?”. It contains a little reference from a classic Lauren Bacall’s movie scene as well. Special thanks to my betas NifflersNogtailsNargles and sonofahorcrux. Hope you guys like it!

_London, at 3 a.m._

In the middle of a muggle bar in downtown London, drunk like never before, there was Harry Potter. Quidditch star, Boy-Who-Lived, Man-Who-Conquered, or whatever other titles _The Prophet_ or _Witch Weekly_ was giving him these days. 

The reason for his drunken state? Hermione Granger. Head of the Department of Law Enforcement and Brightest Witch of Her Age, the not-so-bushy-haired woman was driving him crazy. 

They had never gotten involved or even acknowledged that there was something more than friendship and platonic love during their school days - not even in the tent. 

During his birthday that past week, however, something happened.

It was his birthday party and he’d been in the kitchen of Grimmauld, sobering up after the couple of firewhiskey shots. Harry was feeling loose and had been sporting a lopsided grin all night for no reason at all. Everything seemed to be happening slower in his eyes and he only noticed Hermione when she was in front of him, snapping her fingers in his face.

“Harry? Harry? Ha-“

“Hey,” he said, recovering from the daydream and smiling broadly at her. He drank in her form, the deep green dress kissing her curves.

“My eyes.”

“What? What is wrong with your eyes?”

Hermione asked, a worried tone in her voice.

“Your dress.” He answered, lazily. 

“Harry, you’re drunk. Let me take you-“ she grabbed his hand and turned around, intending on marching him to his bed to avoid any trouble, when his next words stopped her in her tracks.

“Your dress matches my eyes. Did you wear it for me, Hermione?” When she turned to face him once more, she saw his emerald green eyes glittered with heat as they took in every inch of her curves into consideration. His elbows rested on the table and the lust in his face was easy to see. 

Her mouth went dry and she gulped audibly. The back of her mind was screaming _‘What the hell is going on here? Back off!’_ , but her irrational heart seemed to be the one commanding her body. He’d never looked at her thisway. Her friends didn’t notice her as a girl, as a woman. She was always brainy Hermione but this… this look was different. It was almost like there was a pull between them. 

“I-..”

“I think you did. You know, Hermione, you look really pretty tonight.”

Everything seemed frozen in place and Hermione’s heart felt like it was trying to climb out of her chest.

Harry felt his thoughts clearing and decided it was time to stop with the cheap flirting. It was time to do something that he knew he should’ve done a long time ago. Fuck, he knew he should have done this in their fourth year. 

He pulled her body to his, holding her hips with his strong hands. His breath was hot and heavy and his gaze bounced between her chocolate brown eyes and her lips.

“Harry…”

“You really want to say something now, Hermione?” He asked roughly , feeling satisfied when she shivered at his words . His lips were almost touching hers and Harry’s hands were firm on her body. He counted to three, feeling the effects of the firewhiskey lessen even as he became drunk with lust. He felt her breathing become erratic, and felt the brush of her breasts against him every time her chest rose and fell with her breaths. 

When he finally captured her lips, he felt his whole body light up. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, like he was always supposed to kiss her. He was pressing her against him, one hand on her hip and the other tangled in the back of her head guiding the kiss. It was passionate, sensual, and hot.

When Harry’s hand left her hair, Hermione immediately missed the contact. She didn’t even have time to think on that long, however, before his hands were on her bum and she was being raised onto the kitchen table.

“Damn, Harry,” she murmured, her voice breathy as they came apart for air.

She felt a throaty chuckle against her throat. “This is the best birthday present I’ve ever had.” 

The endorphins in her brain were at their maximum and she felt like her whole body was on fire. His beard was tickling her face and giving her even more reasons to keep snogging the life out of him. The kisses changed, slowing down before he pulled away with one final lingering kiss. He stood there, cradled between her legs, as he looked into her eyes. His cheeks were flushed, he was breathing heavily, and he was looking like a whole mess. He’d never looked so hot. 

“Let’s go to my room?” Her response was pulling him by his tight polo shirt and kissing him again.

When they let go of each other, he grabbed her and whispered in her ear.

“I take that as a yes.” He kissed her earlobe and took her in his arms. Two seconds later, the crack of apparition echoed in the kitchen. As the party continued in full swing, no one seemed to realize that the guest of honor had gone missing.

When he woke up the next morning, there was no sign of her around Grimmauld. Not a note, or a message to Kreacher--nothing. It was like nothing had happened.

She’d left the country for the next three days in a series of meetings around Europe, successfully ignoring all his calls. What was the point of using muggle communication if you don’t answer your phone or even look at your texts?

Convinced that he had ruined their friendship, Harry had sent a bouquet of flowers to her office when he heard that she had arrived, which ended up on the cover of the Daily Prophet.

‘ _Great, Harry! Another one in the casket._ ’ he thought scathingly when the newspaper arrived the next morning. Things were escalating really quickly and he was desperate. After berating himself in the shower for what felt like an eternity, he made a decision: leave her alone. 

She already knew he was trying to contact her and that he was sorry. She hadn’t answered any of his messages and The Prophet had only made things worse. So yes, he would leave her alone. After everything settled down he could go and beg her to forgive him.

But of course nothing that Harry Potter planned ever actually went as planned. So after getting drunk in the muggle bar, of course, his irrational mind would decide to apparate on Hermione Granger's doorstep at 3 am. I mean, why not?

He rang the doorbell once, twice, and when he was about to press the third time, something occurred to him: it was impolite to show up without warning. Fortunately, he had his muggle phone with him. 

That’s how Hermione Granger woke up: startled, with her doorbell ringing like crazy, and with some weird texts from Harry on her phone.

“Hermione

Hey I’m at your dirr rn

I’m siry fpr everything

I guess I’m looking pathetic rught niw

But im tired

Going to sleep

Goodnight”

Fuck. Why did he have to go and make things so complicated? She'd had feelings for him since she was eleven and he'd never given any hint that he felt something more than friendship towards her. Then, after many, many, many, many, years, when she had perfectly accepted that nothing was ever going to happen between them, he gets drunk and makes her shiver just thinking about of the best sex of her life. Dammit, Harry!

Of course, it hadn’t stopped there. She should be used to the perks of being Harry Potter’s best friend and all the rumors, but surely it didn’t help at all that she received a bouquet with an apology note. When word had gotten around the ministry that Harry sent her a bouquet, everyone suddenly seemed to have something to do at her office. She had never gotten so many coffee cups or people stopping by to make small talk in her life. 

After that, he'd stopped. She had a whole rant with herself about wrecking her relationship with him by running away and not facing the conversation that should have taken place the morning after his birthday, which led to one decision: she would drop by his place on Monday to have the talk.

Merlin, it seemed like she was a parent about to talk with her non-existent teenaged son about pregnancy. 

So when she opened the door with her wand up and found Harry curled up on the floor, she asked Morgana what she had done in her past life for drama to love her so much. She could just imagine the headlines if anyone at The Prophet saw this.

“Harry? What is going on?”

The man in question turned his head around and stared at her with those green eyes, smiling broadly.

“Hey.” He said lazily, with that lopsided grin that had always made her knees go weak.

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, Harry. You don’t have to show up at my doorstep in the middle of the night to tell me that you’re sorry. Come on, let me get you a sober-up potion.”

He clumsily got on his knees and then finally got up, holding onto the window bench to steady himself.

“Have you learned how to whistle?”

“What? No, Harry, come on. You’re way too drunk right now.” He walked in her direction and stopped right in front of her, staring into her familiar chocolate eyes smiling.

“You just put your lips together,” he put one of his hands on her neck, pulling her closer to him. “And blow.”

He kissed her again and Hermione had to stop herself from moaning right at her front door in the middle of the night where any of her nosy neighbors might see. Somehow she found the strength to pull away, putting her hands on his shoulders and turning her face.

“Harry… you have to take the potion first. Then we will have to talk. You only kiss me when you’re drunk, this can’t keep happening.” She tried to hide the hurt in her voice and looked at him as he sighed and beamed at her. “What?”

“Get me the potion, then.” 

Five minutes later, a sweaty and sober Harry was sitting on her sofa, looking at the TV.

“So…” she started, sitting at his side and putting her hands on her knees. “I guess we have to talk.”

“I think we do, yeah.” he dropped his head on the sofa and closed his eyes. Then, he started to laugh.

“Harry James Potter! This is not a joke! We have to-“

“I know! But damn, I fucked everything up, didn't I?” he had his hands on his face and was laughing so much that his belly was hurting.

“I did everything wrong. I should have gone in-person to your office. Now I get drunk and show up at your doorstep and you think I only kiss you when I’m drunk.”

She listened carefully to his words, trying to connect the pieces, but something wasn’t adding up.

“Harry, you don’t have to pretend anything just to make things less awkward. I can handle it, I’m a big girl.”

“I know that you’re a grown-up woman. A beautiful, brilliant, powerful, and sexy woman. I don’t kiss you only because I’m drunk. Well, I had a couple of shots of firewhiskey on my birthday, it’s true, but I was completely aware of what I was doing. I… I don’t even know when I started to like you, to be honest. When you showed up at the Yule Ball in fourth year, I felt like my heart was going to explode. I wanted to kiss you, right then and there, but I couldn’t. You were there with Krum and with everything going on, it just wasn’t the right time. Actually, the right time never seemed to happen and I reckon I needed a push to just take the chance and stop waiting for the right time.” 

She had no words. Her mouth was slightly open and she felt like she was paralyzed. He put his hand on her left knee and turned to face her right in the eyes.

“I love you, Hermione Granger. And I keep imagining what we could have and the time that we lost. If you don’t feel the same, I’ll leave that door with my heart a lot heavier, but I won’t let this come in the middle of our friendship. But if you do, I guess there’s one question I have to ask... are you mine?” 

The air in the room got heavier and Harry was gulping audibly, dreading her answer. He felt like his hands were in a hot cauldron. 

“Yes, Harry.”


End file.
